


Immune

by melitta4ever



Category: Supernatural, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Homophobic Language, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Young Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9518534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melitta4ever/pseuds/melitta4ever
Summary: The dead starts rising when Winchesters are still young. They meet Dixon brothers. Everyone has their secrets but they stick together to survive, for now.Honestly, the plot is only an excuse to write Daryl/Dean smut...





	1. Merle

**Author's Note:**

> Underage tag is there mainly for the references to Dean's past. Dean is 17 which is above the age of consent in the state of Georgia. Dean had to have some vulnerability for my plot to work and the only way for that badass to confess something like that to have a kid brother, hence the age. 
> 
> And although he's 17, I'd like to imagine him more like Alec McDowell from Dark Angel. You don't know him? Go, check Tumblr, I'll wait. You'll thank me.
> 
> I tried my best to give the Dixons proper Georgia drawl, but I'm sure it's nowhere near the real deal. If anyone is willing to beta, I'd be tots grateful.
> 
> One more thing: The characters have their own world view which might be skewed time to time. Don't blame the author please.

Away from the town, from the highway it seems just like a normal day: A bright Georgia sun baking the blacktop, the trees humming with the little breeze on the side and that clean smell of the country. The smell… For a while Merle believed the whole world had turned bad, like a week old burrito nobody cared to put in the fridge in Georgia summer. The putrid stench of decay was not overwhelming everywhere maybe, but it was always present. Always. Not until they got away from the masses that he realized it wasn't the world that gone bad, just people. The dead, even the fresh ones, reeked; reeked to high heaven. Hell, maybe even the alive did too. When they finally got away from the people -the fools were all trying to go to Atlanta, jamming up the roads, turning themselves into a tightly squeezed snacks for the biters - the freshness of outdoors hit him: Clean and pleasant as always. With the empty road and the brisk breeze, it is almost too easy to imagine that they are on another hunting trip. Except the armed to the teeth part and no music on the radio.

Daryl is silent as a mouse on the driver seat. Not too different from Daryl's normal, except his eyes has that haunted look. His brother looks the part as much as Merle: the fucked up, hard-ass redneck who won't budge for nothin’. But Daryl was nowhere near a massacre of this size before. Hell, Merle didn't either, but he's been in towns rided by militia while he was serving and after seeing a few murdered family, they all look the same to him. A few or a few dozen doesn't make much of a difference. It did to Daryl though. Especially seeing half eaten kids from the trailer park… Merle couldn't tell the brats apart even when they were alive and kicking; same height, same dirty faces, same fucking noise level. But Daryl knew them. Not that his brother was handing out candy bars and shit. Daryl didn't even talk to the kids, but somehow the little rugrats discovered that if they could make it to Daryl's side, they could avoid a beating. Merle didn't like it. It wasn't his fight if a douchebag wanted to take the belt to his own kids; until Daryl got into the fight that was. And for what? Now, they were all fucking dead. Still, it must be really hard on Daryl seeing the kids get eaten by their parents when he couldn't even stand them getting a licking.

* * *

 

Merle would have caught their stench if they weren't driving above the speed limit, but as it is, a group of biters comes as a bad surprise at the blind curve. Daryl manages to keep the truck straight, but gets off road. There is a boy fighting the dead with a machete in the middle of the road, standing on top of a black Impala. There is another one inside the car, -much younger probably it's hard to tell the way biters covering around the car- stabbing them through a cracked window. Unfortunately, Daryl sees them too. Merle senses his brother's intention even before he stops the truck.

“No way, lil’ brotha’. Keep drivin’.”

“They're just kids.” Daryl says with that haunted look in his eyes. As if saving these two gonna change what happened before. As if it's gonna make any difference, other than the dent in their ammunition.

“We ain't wasting no bullets-” he starts, but Daryl is already out of the car.

“Fine!” The stubborn bastard yells, taking his crossbow.

“God damn it, boy.” Merle goes after him. Even now, he has to work hard to keep his idiot brother alive no matter he's been an adult for the good part of his life.

The boy with the machete is taking the heads off of the walkers surrounding him with ease. He looks like a star of a horror movie; all bloody except his face. A pretty face if Merle is being honest.

Daryl takes care of three biters before Merle decides on helping or not. The boy on top of the car finishes the remaining two. Around the car looks like a mass grave which reminds Merle too much of the burned villages of his past. He wonders if it is the same around that part of the world. And even if it is, does it make any difference to the people there? Or is it just one other thing trying to kill them?

“You bit?” Daryl asks the kid, but before getting an answer, the boy in the car jumps out, trampling over the dead bodies on his way.

“I'm cool, Sammy.” The machete kid speaks softly to the young one, easily jumping down from the car and receiving one hell of a hug. “Thank you, sirs. I'm Dean by the way.” He turns towards Daryl while holding the dark haired kid to his side. “And no, no one managed to get a bite.”

“Daryl,” his brother replies and adds, gesturing him, “Merle. Scratch is just bad.” he continues. Of course he becomes a chatterbox, now. Now!

“You okay, lil’ brother?” Dean asks the kid who's still clinging to him like a limpet. And that there is gonna fucking seal it for Daryl. Merle knows it probably before even Daryl does.

The little one doesn't say anything, at least nothing Merle can hear. And he's not gonna wait any longer to listen to these kids. He can pull his own brother now, before it's too late.

“Move it, Daryl.”

Before they could leave, Dean starts asking them to join forces. Forces. Yeah, right. The kid talks about sleeping better with an extra set of eyes, but with enough innuendo to make Merle’s dick twitch in his pants. That bastard love-stick never knew what's good for ol’ Merle anyways; always leading him to trouble. Not this time though. Yeah, the boy is pretty, and looks like he's turned his share of tricks; but it doesn't cut it. Merle can slap his own dick, thank you very much. He checks his brother and yeah, Daryl is oblivious as usual. His brother has never had no eyes for this kinda business. Sometimes Merle wonders if they're actually brothers, or his momma managed to pull a final fuck you to his daddy. Still, Daryl is considering Dean's offer, the loud one. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Daryl!”

Thankfully, his brother doesn't object loudly and turns back to their truck. Merle is turning too, but he still manages to catch a glimpse of what's in the Impala's trunk. A god damn arsenal, that's what.

“You can tag along; but everyone for himself, got it?” He yells, surprising both his brother and the kids.

Merle isn't stupid, he isn't gonna tell his brother about the arsenal until they're on emptying it.

“We're not stripping them from their guns.” Daryl declares as soon as they are in the truck. Apparently, his brother ain't stupid either.

“We won't have to.” Merle explains when they're back on the road, the Impala right behind them. “These two ain't gonna make it long.” Seeing his brother’s frown, he continues, “Don't blame me, brotha’. They're kids and this is the fucking apocalypse. Do the math.”

* * *

 

In hindsight, Merle should have given them more credit what with dancing with a machete and the arsenal in their car. The kids, Winchesters apparently, are damn good at surviving. Even the young one is using the blade the way that can make Merle's friends from army jealous. The older one is as good as a fucking marine. Merle hates accepting it, but the kid even saved his life. From an alive, gun toting, hysteric son of a bitch nonetheless. The loser got bitten and was shooting in panic; right and left without even looking, let alone aiming. Dumbass. A stray bullet was almost gonna make a dent on Merle’s handsome face if not for Dean pulling him down. Merle counted the dumbass's bullets wrong and thought the guy was empty. Rookie mistake.

After the incident, Daryl gives him a look and Merle gets it. He gets it, okay! You don't go and rob the people you owe your life to. Fuck! Luckily, the kids are no trouble tagging along. And having extra set of eyes at night really means longer stretches of sleep so… whatever. The only thing Merle regrets is that he didn't jump the boy's bones when it was offered. He didn't because Merle knew his dick. The two of them had been through enough trouble in the past. He knew it damn well and was afraid he might get hooked poking it into a sweet bonbon. Might his ass, he would definitely get addicted; with no other potential asses around and no TV to kill some time... But now, now the kid ain't offering anymore and Merle… Yeah, he still doesn't wanna get another addiction. Winchesters might be better than he thought earlier, but they still are kids and they won't last long. Of course, it doesn't stop him imagining those pretty lips around his dick while polishing family jewels. The kid is like a live magazine. Little perks of being a Good Samaritan.

* * *

 

All hell breaks loose one early morning. Merle's still bleary eyed, morning wood standing at attention when he hears the screams.

“River! They're coming from the river!” Dean's yelling, last watch was his.

Shit! They thought giving their backs to water was a safe bet. If the walkers passing through it though... shit!

He's outside with the shotgun in seconds. There are at least a dozen biters right in their campsite. He starts shooting.

“Were you sleeping on the watch, boy?” Merle hollers, but Dean can't answer, busy with his own killings.

It's almost overwhelming, getting this close to so many of them. Thankfully he sees an arrow taking down one; Daryl is back from his hunt. And it's between that moment and next he sees one ugly, half-faced bitch jumping over the tent towards Dean. Merle was sure the boy was gonna get bitten, but his kid brother jumps in and he gets it instead. Dean takes the head of the ugly one and then another, but the damage is done. When they finish poking the brains of the dead, Merle sees Dean trying to clean the bite mark on his brother's arm.

“Sorry, kid. It's no use.” He says. “You don't have to, I'll take care of him.” He continues, his gun aiming the little boy, only to face a 45 caliber Colt himself. “Don't be hasty, kid. I know he's your brother, but he's bit.”

“You make a move on my brother, you'll be dead before you hit the ground.” Dean declares, his aim straight and his eyes cold. “Do I make myself clear?”

Merle checks and yeah, Daryl's crossbow is directed at Dean, waiting.

“I'm not saying it because I'm an asshole, boy. I understand, he's your brother-”

“He's immune, okay? He's not gonna turn.” Dean cuts in. “So, no one’s gonna try anything.”

“Ain't nobody immune.” Merle laughs; he knows it's cold, but the kid is delusional. “He's gonna turn into one of those soulless fucks and come after your flesh.”

“I shot my own father to protect him. You really wanna try this?” Dean asks, looking more and more of a psycho behind that pretty cover.

That's when Merle's idiot brother walks between two loaded guns. Fucking dodo.

“We're not gonna kill him, okay?” He talks as if.. as if they're discussing burgers in a diner. “Our plan was staying here for a few days anyways. We'll wait.”

“You can leave if you want.”  Dean answers jolting his chin; his gun is still up.

“Drop the fucking gun, Dean!” Daryl yells. “We're not leaving you with a time bomb brother. Jesus! You too, Merle. Not killing anyone's brother before they bite it.”

“He's not gonna die.” Dean insists. Fucking cry babies. Merle's got enough.

“Yeah, he is. And it's gonna be excruciating and slow.” Merle steps closer. “The rules don't bend just because he is **your** fucking brother. You wanna help him, just ease his pain.” He lowers his gun, “but I understand if you can't, so I'm offering. Helping.”

“You slow, man? He **is** immune. I'm not making it up. He's been bit before, you dickhead!” Dean shouts.

Now, no one ever would claim Merle Dixon is a calm headed bastard who can look over some bad mouthing from a Top Gun wanna be. Merle has stabbed people for lesser insults. However, Dean's claim takes priority even to Merle's ego.

“No way.” He says, but truth is, he wants to believe it. It's a sliver of hope, the first since this whole crap started.

Daryl tries to catch Dean's eyes, almost pleading,”You sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure. He got bit. The fucker got a chunk of his right thigh.” Dean explains, eyes frantic.

“When?” Daryl asks; at least still a skeptic.

“A couple of weeks before we met you. He didn't got a fever, he- Okay, he got some fever but it passed with some antibiotics. The thing is, he got fine. So, I repeat, he is fine.”

Daryl nods and turns back.

“So what happened with Daddy dearest? He wanted to open his skull before Sam died or somethin’?” Merle asks, curious. Something doesn't add up here. Unless, their father was a cold ass son of a bitch who would waste his own son like that.

Dean doesn’t answer at first; busy helping his brother. He starts talking while cleaning Sam’s arm. “Nah, he tried to kill him when Sammy didn't die. He thought Sammy was possessed. You know, demons and shit.”

“End of the world ain't easy.” Merle offers, ”It cracks even the hardest ones.”

Dean laughs, not a happy one. “Nah, man. He was the same before. Only this time, I couldn't…”

“He dead?” Merle has to ask because the last thing they need is a nutjob following them hell bent on revenge. Merle knows how fathers can hold a grudge like a damn elephant.

“I had to.” Dean explains, voice getting colder, “There is no stopping John Winchester with anything less.”

At least they don't have to worry about the motherfucker. Merle doesn't wanna imagine the kinda guy who trained these kids coming after him.

“You done right by your brother.” Daryl comes back from wherever he was lost to and gives a pill bottle to Dean.

“Is that from my stash, Daryl? ‘cause if so, I'm gonna cut your balls off.”

“Shut up. No chance you getting the clap anymore, Merle. I don't see no disease ridden hookers no more.”

“Fuck you!” Yeah, his brother needs a reminder of who's in charge here.

“Hey, I'll get you more next time I'm in the city, okay?” Dean intervenes. “Thanks for these in the meantime.”

“You better. Those pills are more valuable than gold.”

“Dude, my underwears are more valuable than gold.” the kid snickers.

And ain't that the truth.


	2. Daryl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the very reason of the whole story. Pure smut.

Daryl recognizes the steps following him; they are softer than even Merle's. He stops under a big ass tree and waits for the kid to catch up.

“Whatcha want?” The boy looks nervous, but not scared or anything, so it can wait. It will wait. “Whatever it is gonna wait, kid. I'll be back soon.”

“I know why you wanna be alone.” Dean says throwing his head back; pushing his luck with fake bravado.

“Yeah? So what? I'm not gonna turn blind if that's what you're worried.” Daryl scoffes, “Now, go on, skitt.” But Dean doesn't move. “Jesus, Dean, what? You wanna watch?”

“Actually… I wanna suck.” Dean replies, putting on a brave face.

“The fuck?”

“I know you're not queer, man.” Dean readily clarifies, “It's just… would it really bother you if I give you a BJ? I'm good at it, I swear.”

The kid's almost begging; who'd guess?

“You really want it, huh?” Daryl asks, considering the offer. Whatever Merle thinks, Daryl's not stupid. He didn't miss the looks Dean’s been giving him. But he thought it was just a hero worship. Okay, maybe Merle is a bit right ‘cause Daryl never reads these things right. He just thought after the incident with Sam, Dean felt he owed him or something. He sure never thought the kid was gagging for _him._

“You've no idea how much I want it.” the boy answers, biting his lips. Yeah, that's grade A fucking lust in his green eyes and surprisingly it's directed to Daryl. Daryl doesn't get it. Dean is a pretty boy. Like a magazine model, film actor, celebrity.. that kinda pretty. Why would he ever want Daryl?

“You can pretend I'm a girl or whatever.” The boy continues, seemingly lost his bravado while Daryl contemplates his offer.

Daryl gives a shrug in lieu of an answer and Dean readily drops to his knees with a bright smile on his face. The kid opens up his jeans with ease and takes his dick out. And would you look at it, the little Daryl is already raising his head up.

Dean looks at his dick with a fucking reverence; sliding it on his smooth cheeks. No facial hair to speak of.

“Jesus! You even smell good.” the kid exclaims.

Daryl doesn't know how to respond to that; somehow glad that he took a dive in the river this morning. He doesn't even know what to feel seeing Dean holding his dick. Yeah, he heard Merle's comments on _those cock sucking lips_ enough times, but he himself never gave it a thought. Still, those really are such cock sucking lips and Daryl's dick seems not minding the softness and warmth of another body. It's been ages Daryl got a proper blowjob and he's eager. He decides he couldn't care less about the dick between Dean's legs.

Dean licks his dick at first. Like a freaking lollipop. And Daryl can hear that annoying voice of his brother in his mind _'If you let a kid handle your equipment, he's gonna do it like a kid.’_

 _“_ Hang on.” He holds Dean’s head, “How old are you?”

“You asking me that now? After everything we've been through?” Dean complains without an answer. Daryl raises his eyebrows urging Dean to continue, “Old enough that I've been doing it for years, okay?” They keep the staring game until Dean finally answers, “Seventeen, okay, I'm seventeen.”

Daryl considers it for a moment; thinks back to the times when he was seventeen. “Good enough.” he decides with a shrug.

And Dean's face lits up. “Yeah?”

“Whatever.”

Then the kid goes back to business. And Christ Almighty, how much Daryl fucking missed a warm mouth on his dick, that slick wetness engulfing him. Dean's tongue glides over his glans, rubbing it with just enough pressure. His lips keep massaging softly, and yeah, that's it. That's the way Daryl likes it. Long, slow strokes; up and down, up and down... Dean twirls his tongue now and again; spicing it up. His hand is massaging the root of Daryl's dick, long fingers spreading up to his navel. And he keeps swallowing more and more of him, like he can't get enough.

The scene is darn pornographic too. The sunlight filtering through dense trees gives everything a soft, warm hue. Dean's eyes are fluttering; the bright green of his eyes hiding behind his long lashes. Years ago Daryl was hanging out with a stripper. She stuck fake lashes to her eyes since she had burned her own while using crack; stupid broad. Dean’s reminds him of those, long and curved; just way prettier, curtaining the cute freckles on the boy's heated cheeks. And that cocksucking mouth looks obscene around his dick; slurping, moaning... He looks like he loves giving head and Daryl would have questioned the earnestness of it if his blood didn't leave his brain towards all the way south. Instead, he just listens to the sweet sounds while Dean chokes himself on his dick.

Daryl gets the rhythm going, getting ready to pop his nuts when Dean stops. But before he can complain or question, the boy engulfs one of his balls.

“Fuck!” Daryl can't help cursing. Dean holds his dick in his hand, moving it so slowly that you can't really call it a hand job. Which is just fine 'cause Daryl doesn't wanna come right this minute. He wanna savor it. The kid is mouthing his nads like they are covered with something tasty. He sucks them in gently, rolling them inside his mouth, grinding them between his soft lips. Dean looks debauched like this: Daryl’s dick on his face, eyes closed, humming...

Daryl sees the kid's hand kneading his own dick over the jeans. The bulge is obvious. He does fucking enjoy it. That does it for Daryl. He frees his dick from Dean's hand and pushes it inside that lush mouth. He feels Dean's hand on his own, guiding it towards the kid's head. He grabs Dean's dirty blond hair and fucks his mouth. Fucks it like he means it; passing through the lips, the tongue, the cheeks, to all the way down to his throat which opens up and up for him. Accommodating him, welcoming him. Running after his own big O, he barely registers Dean is coming. When it's his time, Dean doesn't let him out of his mouth and swallows everything Daryl blasts in him.

“Jesus, kid.” He's breathless and lightheaded. Best orgasm he got since forever. “You really do know what you doing, huh?” He lays his head back to the tree, savoring the warmth of the sun on his face.

Dean grins, “ I know what I want too.” he continues while placing Daryl's sated dick back into his pants. “So, would you be against a repeat performance?”

“You’re off by a few decades on my age, kid. Ain't that young no more.”

“Not now.” Dean laughs; a nice laugh, coming from all the way down from his belly, “I'm not that young either. I meant, you know the next time you feel the need… I'll be happy to oblige.”

Daryl looks at the enthusiastic boy watching him; grasps his face. He touches that sweet, sweet mouth; his fingers grazing the reddened lips. Yeah, he wouldn't mind it a second time. Or a third. He nods.

“Cool.” Dean gets up smiling; beats the dry leaves off of his knees. “We're cool, right?” He asks suddenly timid. “You know…”

“Yeah, we're cool.” He's cool. The world is fucking ending, the dead is walking and chewing the remaining few alive… shooting his wad into a boy is not even making into the list of things he's gonna think about.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean is willing, all the time. The kid somehow senses whenever Daryl wants an alone time with his pecker; follows him and blows his brains out of his dick. It’d be eerie the way the kid almost reads his mind, but Daryl didn't get his tip wet this often and this good even before dead started rising. So, he only pays attention to the good bits, like how Dean keeps coming into his pants by deep throating Daryl.

Of course, he can't keep it a secret from Merle too long. His brother has the nose of a hound when it comes to getting some.

“Are you tapping that ass, brotha’?” Merle catches him one day, that shit eating grin on his face. “You finally a man, now?”

“Shut up.” He murmurs. Daryl is as sated as he can be after Dean's magical mouth, and he knows Merle's got a knack of messing with it. It's his fucking hobby.

“Come on, share a bit with your big brother.” He comes after Daryl.

“Do I ever tell, Merle?” Daryl tries to evade. He never understood his brother's habit of sharing his every conquest. On the other hand, Merle isn't one to keep his mouth shut on anything so maybe it's just that.

“Is he any good?” Merle continues as if Daryl didn't speak. “He looks like he's been turning tricks since early age. Experienced?”

“What the fuck you talkin’ about?” He asks, instead of walking away from Merle. He knows it's a mistake.

“He's a hustler, little brotha’.” Merle answers with an even bigger grin. “Did you think he fancies you? He's just trading; not money maybe, but safety.”

“Ain't like that.” At least, Daryl hopes not. It's not that he has never paid a girl before. But when fucking a 17 year old's skull, it kinda makes a difference if he's willing or just plain desperate.

“You tell yourself that.”

“Matters none. I ain't the only one enjoying it.” He can't help but blubbers. He always ends up defending his actions to Merle. Always.

“Ho ho… there is a Dixon in you after all.” Merle starts moving his hips suggestively, “You let him dance on your cock till he shoots?” He stops for a moment only to start negotiating, “What you say about double teaming him, huh?”

Daryl has a sick brother. “Do whatever you want, Merle. Just... don't wanna see your fucking junk anywhere near mine.” He turns to walk away, but can't really hold it in, “Jesus, what's wrong with you?”

“You're such a prude.” Merle shrugges it off. “It's the fuckin’ end of the world and you can't be down for a threesie.”

“Not with my brother!” Daryl almost screams.

“Whatever.” Merle finally backs off. “Ain't gonna steal my brother's butt hugger, so don't get your panties in a twist.”

“Don't care whatcha do.” Daryl spits out and walks away as he should've done from the start. Merle and his fucking big mouth.

* * *

 

Unfortunately, what Merle said doesn't really leave Daryl alone. The more he thinks about it, the more he is convinced Dean is only doing it so that they can stick around. Jesus! Who'd cum just giving a head? A very well versed hooker, that's who. And it's not like Daryl can blame the kid; it ain't easy to be alone in this world. But, Daryl can sure blame himself. Dean is just a kid. Yeah he knows his way around dicks -which actually makes it even sadder- but he's still a kid. Daryl wouldn't have overlooked if it didn't feel so fucking good.

It doesn't look like he's going to get some sleep. Maybe, he should go and relieve Merle from the watch. Not that his asshole brother deserves a break or anything.

He hears someone entering their tent before he arrives a decision.

“It's me.” Dean whispers, eying the blade Daryl holds under his chin. “Just me.”

“Almost vented your brain.” Daryl huffs. “Whatcha doing here sneaking?”

“Wanna fuck?”

Shit. Daryl decides being blunt is the best way to go. That's his approach in pretty much everything anyways.

“You don't… you don't have to kid. You're with us now.”

Dean laughs. ”Merle said something, doesn't he? Dude is jealous, okay. Don't listen to him.”

“He's my brother, you lil’ shit!” Daryl can't help; defending his brother is an instinct ingrained deep in him.

“I didn't mean it like… Look. If I really was doing it to secure our place, I'd do your brother. Okay?” The boy explains. “Don't get me wrong, but it seems like he gets to say the final word.” He waits a spell, then adds rolling his eyes, “And Merle wouldn't be so hard to convince either.”

Daryl considers it a bit. He just doesn't want any drama. “Whatever. Now, skitt.”

Of course Dean doesn't leave because why would things start going for Daryl’s way all of a sudden.

“Daryl.” He drawls and gets even closer, “Come on, man. I prepared myself ready, used ton of lubricant. Let's waste not.”

He looks ready. There is a tent in front of his boxer proving his case. The moonlight passing through mesh windows plays with shadows and turns the kid into an enchanting creature. More so than usual. Daryl does want Dean under him, taking his cock. His dick couldn't care less about Daryl's reservations. And as usual, Dean fucking reads his mind.

“Let me ride you, huh? Show you how much I want it. I'll make it good. I promise.” He almost begs.

Fuck it. He already said his piece and if Dean still wanna get impaled, Daryl ain't gonna be the one to refuse the offer.

“Yeah, okay.” He says while shimmying down his pants. Under the full moon, he can see how Dean is watching him. He takes his hardening cock in his hand to get himself ready, fully aware of the desire fuming in Dean.

“Dude,” the kid confides, licking his full lips. Then he continues while putting a condom on Daryl, “You have no idea how much I want your dick inside me.”

Daryl was getting blown steadily last two weeks, but still watching Dean sitting on his dick so, so slowly feels too fucking good. The boy is slick, like dripping slick, and gradually engulfs him in warmness and tightness.

“Fuck!” Daryl can't stop the curse escaping his mouth when Dean's buttocks flashes with his thighs. The kid grinds his hips, making Daryl feel every inch of his dick. He holds the kid's slender hips to pull him even more, going even deeper. Daryl loves the blowjobs, but this.. this is something else.

Dean starts moving very slowly and Daryl lets him set the pace. He keeps his hands on the kid's hips, but barely guiding.

“Can I… see your body?” Dean asks timidly. “Wanna watch you.”

Normally, Daryl doesn't do naked thanks to his daddy's mementos covering his skin. It feels like revealing too much of himself and he doesn't like the looks he gets. But Dean's different. He has seen Dean's body. The kid has his share of scars, obviously tended with more care than Daryl's, but still there; his own mementos. So, he doesn't feel that urge to cover up his skin like whenever the issue raises and lets Dean take off his shirt.

The kid keeps watching him with awe. ”Fuck, you look gorgeous.” His hands roaming over Daryl's pecs, abs… He picks up the pace, “Dude,” he moans suddenly, “Right there, right fucking there.”

Daryl tries to repeat what he did and after a few trial he gets it.

Dean falls apart. “Oh, God… oh God… please.” He starts chanting, “Daryl… Please.”

It's hypnotizing watching the kid becoming undone on top of him. Dean can't move as well anymore, only grinding on top of Daryl and Daryl has to take the control. He flips them easily so he's on top, but before he can start fucking the kid, Dean asks to turn. “Doggy style.” He hisses while pulling his legs under him.

He looks dazzling from this angle too. If not for his nicely developed shoulders, you could even take him for a girl; such narrow waist and delicious looking bubble butt. Daryl grasps that butt and spreads out to reveal the hole he was fucking earlier. It glimmers, like moonbeams shimmer on water. He's so hard that he doesn't even need to hold his dick to push it back inside. Watches it disappear in the dark warmness. Listens to how Dean's breath hitches.

“Fuck me, fuck me… please.” Dean continues his litany and even though it's tempting, Daryl takes his time. Because watching himself playing peek a boo inside Dean's back end is mesmerizing.

After a while, he starts searching for the angle that made Dean go completely off wagon. It doesn't take long to hear him moan, literally begging. This time Daryl complies, banging him like the kid's asking for it. He can tell Dean’s trying to reach his dick, but can’t spare either hand for long under the brutal pace Daryl set. At the end, it doesn’t make much difference ‘cause Daryl feels the boy cumming. Jesus fucking Christ, does he feel it? Dean’s o-ring clenches and clenches and keeps clenching on his dick. Almost at the wrong side of painful. Almost, but not quite. It’s wonderful.

After the shocks, Dean turns into jelly, barely holding himself up on his hands and knees. Still, Daryl keeps fucking him until his own legs are shaking with the strain. Until he can’t keep the kid up anymore. Then, he pushes Dean down, right on top of where he has spilled before and lays down on him. Dean’s maybe young, but he’s strong. Stronger than any girl Daryl’s been with so far. So, he doesn’t have to worry about crashing his bones or anything. He pushes one of Dean’s leg up to the side for a better angle and starts grinding on top of him, pulverizing that ass. He can’t go as deep like this, but the pressure from Dean’s buttocks massaging his pelvis compensates for that fraction of an inch. The kid is delicious under him and Daryl wants to taste him. To suck flavor of his skin through clenched teeth. Bite him, mark him, make him remember how good they both felt inside the small tent while the world went shit outside.

When he comes, it’s divine.

After, he can’t get up at first, but Dean manages to push him to the side. They’re both breathless, both shaking. Daryl’s gonna feel this in the coming days which reminds him it might be worse for the kid.

“You okay?” He asks, now that some blood finally manages to reach his brain, he starts worrying about tears and bruises that most probably happened. Daryl never fucked anyone this brutal before. He’s not an expert on ass-fucking, but he thinks it probably is more fragile than pussy. Not made for fucking after all.

“I think I’m dead.” Dean finally answers, his voice wavering. “Dude, please don’t tell me this was a one time deal. Not after this.”

“You like it, huh?” Daryl asks, the doubts in his mind clearing up.

“I don't know if you realized, but I came untouched. I think I came a second time too while you were trying to make a Dean paste.”

“So, you ruined my sleeping bag.”

Dean chuckles, his green eyes are brilliant under moonlight. “I clean it up tomorrow. If I can walk that is.”

“Seriously, you're not hurt, right?” Daryl has to ask.

“Nah. Don't think so. My whole body is still throbbing though.”

They stay quiet for a little while, then Dean gets up. “We gotta have a repeat performance.” He says winking and leaves Daryl's tent.

Daryl doesn't think he would oppose. It was one of the finest fucks of his life. He starts sliding into a relaxed sleep with a smile on his face. Of course that's when Merle enters the tent.

“You dirty bastard.” He drawls. That he has a shit eating grin on his face evident in his voice. “You fucked the life out of this kid.”

“You watchin’ me, Merle? ‘cause I already said what I think about my brother getting close when I get laid.”

“I heard the kid's screams and come checkin'.” Merle explains with a shrug. “You gave it to him good. Even I think he earned his place after that fuckin'.” he continues; so happy with himself. So relaxed… damn it.

“You didn't. You sick bastard!” Daryl would hit him if he had enough strength in his legs to carry him.

Merle snorts. “ ‘course I rubbed one listenin'. It was like porn. The view wasn't that great though, not enough light.”

Daryl throws his boot at him, but Merle avoids easily.

“I don't think I can trust either o’ you for tonight. Not enough coffee to keep you awake after that banging.” He laughs. “I'll take the whole night. Come get me when you wake up.” Then he leaves, still laughing.

Bastard.

 


	3. Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for very mild, one sided weecest.

The camp is not asleep yet. Sam can hear the ladies talk around the fire which makes him nostalgic for some stupid reason. Camping reminds him Uncle Bobby even though they did it only twice and neither time was anything like this. It was happy with Uncle Bobby, away from dad. The only hunting they talked was to catch something to eat.  He hopes the old guy is okay and they'll meet sooner rather than later even though he doesn't know how to explain the missing Winchester to the man. He doesn't want to cry, so he stops thinking about him. Uncle Bobby is a hunter. He sure can survive through this catastrophe better than most.

Finding this group, with women and children, was totally luck. Dean says he doesn't like the dude in charge, Shane, but they still stay. Sam's not stupid, he knows the main reason they're here is that Merle’s got something for the blonde bitch. And Sam is using the term prepensely. He doesn't like Andrea. She treats Dean like dirt under her fucking shoes just because her stupid sister got something going for him. As if they can find anyone better than Dean even if it wasn't the end of the world. She looks at them with this holier than thou attitude even while eating the meat Dean and Daryl hunted down for the camp. She'd starve -probably got eaten by zombies first- if not for the people she thinks she's too cool to hang out with. See, bitch.

Dean laughs at his reflections on Andrea.

“She's just a scared lady, Sammy. Harmless.” He says. Though Sam knows if Andrea was giving Sam that attitude, Dean wouldn't be this forgiving.

The rest of the group seems tolerable except the giant asshole, Sophia's dad. It's an openly known secret that he beats his wife, but no one does anything. They all pretend to be living in houses with walls and privacy as if a tent is not like a damn movie screen broadcasting every single punch. There is also something very wrong how the bastard looks at his own daughter that makes Sam's blood run cold. Sam has blamed pretty much everything on his father -some even he would accept was only adolescent bullshit- but this… Even he can't imagine having a father like that.

Sam's still trying to catch some sleep when Dean barges in their tent. He looks well fucked. Again. Which makes Sam really angry. And jealous. And, fuck, horny. But everything makes him horny at his age. It's even worse now that there isn't much to occupy his mind. No school, no hunting, no dad...

“You don't have to do it, you know. Not anymore.” he blabs without raising his head.

“Whatcha talking about?” Dean drawls while taking off his boots.

“I know Dean. I know about Daryl.” Sam is tired of the charade. Everybody knows about them, they should cut the secret spy crap.

“I don't see how it's any of your business, smartass.” Dean answers with a little bite.

“Don't treat me like a child.” Sam can't help getting aggravated. It's always same with Dean, The Big Brother. He treats Sam like he has decades on him instead of three and a half years. “I know you're doing it so he won't send us off. But we're in a bigger group now. The only reason they even accepted Dixons is that we were with them.” He continues with a shrug. “You don't have to and I don't like it.”

“Yeah? And I don't like you nosing into my biz.” Dean tersely replies.

“Don't-” Sam starts but Dean doesn't let him finish.

“Sammy, I ain't doing anything I don't want, okay?” He claims. “Don't worry.” His last words come out so tranquil that they are more fitting into the mouth of a hippie looking for Nirvana. Actually, he sounds more like he already found it.

“I thought you didn't like dick.” Sam pushes. It probably makes him look childish; but he's not gonna be brushed off easy. “You said you only done it for money.”

“And you gave me your word not to mention that ever.” Dean erupts. After a while he continues, much more composed. “I don't know man. It's different with Daryl.”

“Yeah?” That's unexpected.

Dean's whole body language changes. And it's just as if they're back to those dusty motel rooms, squeezed in a single bed where Dean's portraying his latest conquest: The girls he kissed, touched, tasted or fucked.  Where they're both under the covers regardless of the weather and Sam is living heaps of sexual gratification through his brother.

“Yeah.” Dean replies with a grin. He places his hands behind his head, and starts talking with the smile of a cat that got the cream. Which makes Sam's skin tingle. Dean's eyes are glued on top of their tent as if he's watching his story unfold over there.

“So, what do you like about it?” Sam asks tentatively. He knows his role in this scenario, but the previous scripts don't fit to this specific situation. So far, they have only talked about Dean and girls. Dean never wanted to talk about how he did it with guys in truck stops, claiming they were merely monetary transaction and no fun.

“I like his dick.” Dean starts.

“Don't be gross.” Sam pulls his hand out of his shorts. Maybe he got the signs wrong; this isn't going to be like that.

“Dude, if you wanna skip the dicks, this ain't the story you wanna listen.” Dean explains, still grinning.

“What's different?” Sam asks, genuinely curious. All dicks he's seen so far were very similar; except... “Big?”

“I like how your mind works.” Dean snickers, “Yeah, it kinda is.” He adds and then stops. He's honest to God daydreaming about a guy's dick, and wow! Sam meets a shiny, new part of his brother today.  

“Dude!” he nudges Dean when he doesn't continue for a while.

“Okay, okay… but that's not it. Or just it.” He smiles a bit; the kind that makes Sam's heart jump; dick too. “It's head is larger than rest of it, you know. Like not too much but enough that I can feel it. Damn.” Dean bites his lips, “And Daryl, he can aim his dick just like his bolts, man. Hits exactly on the spot, each time, every time. It feels heavenly.” He finishes longingly.

Sam grabs his dick but is afraid of pumping because this... this is so much better than the stories with the girls that he's gonna come on the spot. He can see in his mind's eye how Dean is taking a dick and loving it and that makes something in Sam shiver uncontrollably.

“Hit the spot, huh? Not so common?” Sam asks, not that he really needs to ask but feigning ignorance is part of the script. He needs the soft flow of Dean's voice to carry him deeper where he won't feel the shame anymore.

“Not at all. First, it means he cares enough. He's not in it just for himself, ya’ know. Also, not everyone has the patience or the muscles to pull it.”

“Your favorite time?” Sam asks timidly; still not sure if this is what he thinks it is.

“When I sneaked in his tent one night. And ride him out.” He punctuates with his hips. “He holds my hips and keeps pushing and pushing. Let me tell you, the guy has stamina, Sammy. Dude could go for hours?”

“No way.” Sam makes sure pointing out the fantasy parts of the story. “Or you think all that clean living turned him into an Olympic athlete?”

“First of all, if you wanna listen, shut the hell up. Second, I don't exactly know how long because I always come before him, okay? And that night… I didn't even touch myself.”

“Get out.” Sam can't even contemplate the possibility. He loves touching his dick. Several times a day, every day.

“I kid you not. He kept hitting right at my sweet spot, still under me, grinding into it. And suddenly I just exploded. Barely catching anything before spilling on him.”

Oh, Sam is close, too close. He squeezes his dick to the point of pain to postpone the inevitable.

“Then he asked me to lick it.” Dean continues mischievously.

“You didn't… Don't be gross, Dean, come on.” He half heartedly grumbles because it's what a younger brother should do. However, the thought of Dean licking his fingers clean of cum makes his balls work extra hard. He can almost see the way his brother would pop his fingers out of his mouth after sucking them dry, like he used to do after inhaling a pie.

“You bet I did. He watched me licking my fingers while still grinding into me. Then he just manhandled me under him and Jesus, fucked the breath out of me. Like a turbo engine, you know. Making that little _huh, huh_ noises. He's always quiet, no grunting, no dirty talk… When he makes that noise, I know he's gonna come and I just turned and took him in my mouth.”

And Sam comes with a protest. “Jesus! Way to ruin it Dean. Fuck you!”

“Oh you have no idea. I know it sounds gross.”

“Understatement.” He's still angry for his ruined orgasm. It might be his fifth today, but it's the principal of things.

“Dude, for the look on his face, I'd do it anytime in a heartbeat. Also, it's better not having stuff leaking from my ass you know. I'm out of condoms.”

Sam is still breathing hard. His dick twitches again at the mention of Dean’s ass leaking cum. He's not sure he's still coming or he's coming _again_.

“You do like him.” Sam points out after catching his breath.

“He's alright.” Dean answers. Then turns towards Sam, signaling end of the story time. “ But you're my favorite little spoon.” He adds while messing Sam's hair.

* * *

 

Carl's mom tries to teach the kids whenever she has time, school work. Sam knows it's a lost cause and the knowledge stings. John Winchester’s voice comes unbidden ‘ _You wanna waste your time on school work? Instead of learning what might as well save your life? Or your brother's?’_ Sam can't remember how many walls or doors or mirrors he punched for that fight. Now. Even after his death, it turns out John Winchester wins the argument. Sam just hopes he wasn't right about Sam turning into the Boy King of Hell, whatever that means.

Sometimes, he still can't believe Dean shot the guy. It's not like Sam didn't know Dean loved him. It's just... Dean had never even disobeyed a single order.  In his brother eyes, John Winchester never could do wrong. Dean couldn't blame their dad even for being forced to prostitution before he reached fifteen for God's sake.

Until he saw John falling to ground with a bullet hole as big as Sam’s fist on his face, Sam didn't think his brother was capable of even disagreeing with the man. But, he did it. Dean killed their father; shooting him from the back while John Winchester stood in front of Sam, his own finger on the trigger. Looking back, Sam realizes Dean must have contemplated everything beforehand. He knew their father the best. Sam couldn't believe his dad wanted to kill him until he faced the barrel, but Dean.. Dean must have known how things gonna play. And he was ready; patiently waiting behind his trusting father.

Sam, of course, is grateful that his brother chose him, a scrawny 13 year old instead of a seasoned hunter and ex-marine to spend the end of world together. On the one hand, Dean is devastated -even more so than committing patricide- by his father's betrayal. On the other hand, he looks like he's finally free. Sam is sure there was no way in hell Dean would pursue whatever it is with the crossbow tottin’ redneck if John Winchester was still alive.

On the other, freak of nature, third hand, Sam is so jealous of Daryl that he almost wishes… Damn! He didn't know Dean would be like that with anyone other than family. His past conquests were just that: veni, vidi, vici. But with Daryl, it seems different. It feels like Sam is sharing Dean. Sam hates sharing Dean. He thinks maybe that's why they had all those fights with his father. Sam didn't want to share Dean's affection and it seemed like John Winchester always got the lion share when it came to Dean. Thankfully, not where it really mattered.

The thing is Sam believes that Daryl Dixon and John Winchester are way too similar when it comes to Dean. Theirs is not love, but exploitation. John used his son as a soldier. He used Dean's immense loyalty to make things easier for himself, being it a helpful hand during a hunt, or having someone that takes care of everyday life. Daryl plain old uses Dean. That hillbilly is not the type who'd be okay to admit liking a girl, let alone another man. The homophobe is using Dean as a warm hole to fuck, and it drives Sam crazy that Dean allows it. Exactly like he allowed everything their dad did, just to be granted a crumb of approval. For Daryl, he's doing different stuff, disgusting stuff; just so that Daryl keeps fucking him, a misrepresentation of absent love.

Sam wants to shake his brother; make him see the ugly truth. But, Dean comes back from Daryl so freaking happy every single time that Sam can't bring himself to mess with that bliss.

He still hates sharing though.


	4. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Merle being an asshole and some non-con patting.

Although the guy looks really stupid in his crisp uniform and behaves like he has a death wish, seeing someone else alive and well after so long feels nice. Of course Merle doesn't think so. He stays on the roof while they all go down waiting for Glen to bring the cop in the building. On hindsight, it was a mistake to leave Merle alone. He was high as a kite, complaining about everything under the sun and trying to pick a fight with everyone during the whole trip. So, Dean shouldn't feel this surprised coming up to this scene. Merle is beating the shit out of T-Dog and the rest of the group is watching like the bunch of sissies that they are.

“Merle! The hell you doing, man?” He yells running towards him. “You gonna kill the guy!”

It gets Merle’s attention, but not the way Dean was hoping.

“‘m supposed to listen to ya’, boy? What? You think you're family or somethin’?” He roars, rising from where he was kicking the living shit out of T-Dog. His gun is now directed towards Dean. Eyes are bloody. Shit, he's totally toasted. “You ain't nothin’ but a carpet muncher faggot my brotha’ humors to get his rocks off.”

Dean raises his hands. He doesn't wanna look intimidating in any way that Merle's drug filled brain might take as a danger and decide shooting. “You're right. I'm sorry. I just-” but Merle doesn't let him continue. From one moment to the next, Dean finds himself on the ground with Merle sitting on top of him.

“It's time  ol’ Merle gets his due too, huh? Ya’ ready to taste a real man, boy?” He starts rambling, trying to open up Dean's jeans with only one hand. “I should've pound that bunghole from the start. It'd’ve stop you turnin’ my brotha’ to a freakin’ fairy.”

Dean waits for the moment when Merle's grip on the gun loosens while the guy fumbles on top of him. Luckily, the cop they saved earlier is faster. He clocks a real good one to Merle and cuffs him to a steel bar.  

When Dean gets up, he doesn't like the looks he gets. A healthy mix of pity, disgust, lust and even some jealousy. Fucking great!

* * *

 

“Where's Merle?” Dean asks when T-Dog comes out of the stairs, running alone.

“I dropped the keys, okay?” Asshole yells jumping into the truck.

“I guess, I'll go and get him then.” Dean cannot believe the callousness of the guy.

“I locked the door, you can't enter.” T-Dog says from the back of the truck. “You can't save him.”

“Yeah, and what should I tell Daryl? His brother wanted to cop a feel so I left him to die?” Fuck this shit. “I'll find another way.”

They all leave in the truck like the bunch of cowards they are. Which actually makes them a lot smarter than Dean. At least he gets an extra piece from T-Dog, double the ammo.

Zombies are everywhere and while it makes it hard to navigate, they all make plenty of noise to distract each other. Dean tries the trick he learnt from the cop and smears his body with the juice of each zombie he kills.

When he finally makes it back to the rooftop, he finds Merle with a hacksaw resting on his handcuffed wrist.

“Don't do something stupid?” Dean hollers.

“Would ya’ look it,? Couldn't stay away, huh boy? Ol’ Merle is addictive.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah. After that love declaration, how could I resist?” He reaches to Merle. “Are you out of your fucking mind? You gonna cut your hand?”

“Not that now I’ve some help, no.” Merle manages to sound like Dean is the one who owes him in this situation.

There's no way that old hacksaw is gonna cut the steel bar or the handcuffs. So, Dean starts picking the lock.

“When you're free, we're gonna have to work together, okay?” He asks. “If you wanna be frisky or fight or both, you're gonna wait until I can safely kick your ass; away from all the zombies.”

“Only in your dreams you can kick my ass, lil’ fairy.” Merle laughs.

Dean stops. “I'm serious Merle. I'm doing this only because of your brother. But if you act in a way that might risk my return to my own brother, the game is over for you. Got it? I'm not shooting with my ass so it matters none that I take it up from it. I'll kill you.”

Merle shrugs. “I already know you're a killer, boy. Save the advertisement.”

Going down the building isn't easy, but now they are two instead of one, both carrying a gun. Still, it would be impossible to find a way out of this hell hole if the cop didn't show up with the truck. Going back isn't exactly a joy ride either when Merle's desire to kill T-Dog hits to the roof; but they manage it with only very loud, continuous yelling. No blood spills, so it's better than Dean expected.

Dean sits back, resting on the side wall of the truck and tries not to think about Merle's drug induced insults. He isn't successful. It's not like he didn't know Daryl thought about him like some kind of prison wife; apocalypse wife whatever. It wasn't even fair expecting anything more from the guy who's never claimed he was gay or bi. Who never even initiates anything between them. Dean knew all of that when he started. All he wanted was sex too. And maybe.. maybe a final fuck you to John Winchester who would flip his shit if he learnt Dean was taking up in the ass and not for pragmatic reasons either. Still the words hurt. Being in it just for the horizontal tango isn't the same as fucking the only available ass. It's not like Dean turned into girl and started wanting flowers and shit. He just doesn't want to be looked at with disdain.

 

* * *

 

A family is united. What are the odds? It's a damn miracle the cop they brought back with them is Carl's father. Everybody feels a bit more hopeful because of it. And why wouldn't they? They all have someone they want to meet, hoping to find them alive and well. Even Dean. He is sure if anyone can survive this zombie apocalypse, it's Uncle Bobby. It's just, they have zombi filled 1500 miles between them for Dean to see him again.

The only person in the group who seems unaffected -apart from Merle, but no one expects him to do so, especially after the day he had- is Sam. Which is odd because Sam is the teary eyed one in their family.

“What's the problem, short sport?” He asks, well aware that the nickname will get a raise out of his brother.

“Nothing.”

Okay, this is odd. Sam should have at least said ‘ _ don't call me that’ _ in that emo way of his.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Dean asks again, more serious.

Sam looks at the ground. “How can you tell if someone touching another's butt accidentally or on purpose?” He asks timidly.

Dean feels a scare so sudden that almost paralyzes him. “Who?”

“I just can't tell if he's just… I don't know, affectionate or a pedo. He sometimes has this look in his eyes. A glint.”

If it's Merle, Dean's gonna start with cutting off his appendages until he kicks it.

“Who?” He asks, trying to control his voice.

“Why don't you answer my question first? How can you tell?”

“If you feel you have to question it, then it is a bad touch, Sammy. Now you answer me, who?”

“Ed.”

“Sophia's dad?”

Sam only nods.

Dean knew the guy was up to no good, but touching his baby brother… He finds him in the middle of the camp ground, eating the food they risked their lives to get. Dean doesn't announce his intentions. He simply drags the guy by his collar under the shocked eyes of the ladies.

“What the hell?” Ed starts but Dean isn't gonna let him talk. He starts beating the shit out of the bastard who's never fought against someone who could return as good as they got. There are women yelling around him, and Dean knows it's only a matter of time before the guys come and try to separate them, so he doesn't let Ed catch a breath. He pulverizes that ugly face and kicks the living shit out of his balls as a good measure.

“You touching little kids now, Ed? You sick fuck! I'll kill you.” He manages to growl before Carl’s dad and Shane pull him up, separating the two.

“Hey, hey… Enough!” Shane yells. Dean shrugs his arms, signaling that he's done. They let him go, still staying close.

“If I catch you touching my brother, I'll cut your fingers and use them to scoop out your ugly eyes. Don't think for a second anyone can stop me.” Dean anything but roars.

“I didn't touch anyone's brother.” Ed has guts to speak.

That's when Sam comes, giving a full kick to the guys middle before spitting on him. He, then, holds Dean's hand and leads him to their tent.

It's only when they're alone and Sam is trying to clean his knuckles under the flashlight that Dean figures something isn't right. It drives Dean crazy, but Sam always wants to take care of the stuff himself. He would never come running to Dean for this, not until he could brag about how he stopped it. So, it's either something a lot worse than the maybe accidental touching that made Sam to ask his brother's help... Or… or what? He doesn't know.

“Sammy… Hey look at me.” Dean holds Sam's chin to raise his head. He looks defiant. Shit. That's not the look he was expecting. “You wouldn't lie about something like this, right?”

“I didn't.” He answers, but now looks guilty too. “I never said it was me he was touching.” He finishes, eyes are on the ground.

“Jesus, Sam! You knew… you-”

“Yes, I knew. I also knew you might not do anything if it wasn't me. I'm sorry, Dean.”

Dean cannot believe his brother would play him like this. Sam continues, “She's my friend and no one protects her, Dean. No one.”

“Sophia?” Ed’s own daughter.

Sam nods. “I thought… that's what we used to do, right? Saving people… that was dad's motto.”

“It's not the only thing you got from dad's book now, is it?” He asks. He feels cold. Sam is even using dad. Manipulative little shit.

“What?”

“I ain't your attack dog, Sammy.” He fumes and stops. He doesn't wanna say anything else right now, it'll get ugly otherwise. Sam tries coming after him when he gets up, but Dean stops him, “Don't. I wanna be alone.”

“Dean…” he begs after him, and probably it's the first time Dean doesn't listen.

He starts perimeter check just to have something to do. He wishes Daryl was around so he could fuck until he can't think. He doesn't wanna think. Maybe he should go and take Merle's offer. The guy looks like he can fuck hard and long. He could make Dean forget. Forget that Dean's been nothing but an asset for his father, for his fuck-buddy and now for his brother. If only his stomach was stronger; Merle Dixon is a disgusting piece of shit. Nah, who's he kidding? Dean doesn't want anyone else touching him lately.

And then Daryl comes out of trees like a freaking hero. He's carrying a large buck over his shoulders, muscles bulging with extortion, sweaty skin glistening under moonlight. And Dean starts salivating. He wants to be all over that.

“Whatcha doing so far from camp?” Daryl asks when Dean takes the buck from him. Damn, it's heavy. “Good lord, you're gonna buckle under it, give it back.” 

He re-shoulders the buck with ease and Dean gets so hard he has to adjust himself. Daryl catches him and snorts. “I caught you choking the chicken?”

Dean wants to say something corny, but just shakes his head.

“You just happy to see ol’ me, huh?” Daryl continues, obviously in a happy mood.

“I guess.”

“We'll have a nice venison for tomorrow. Can't wait for the look on Merle’s face.” Yeah, he is happy.

When they arrive the camp site, he recognizes something's off. “Is Merle okay?” He whispers with dread.

“He's okay.. he was high in the morning so probably crushed right now.” Dean answers. Daryl just nods, his eyes are knowing.

The group gets really excited over the buck. Congratulating Daryl, thanking him. Carl jumps in  introducing his previously assumed dead dad. But Dean feels that Daryl's attention is at somewhere else. The guy excuses himself and leaves, but not without asking Dean to join him.

Daryl never initiates sex so Dean knows this is not a booty call; but his dick doesn't get the memo for the longest time. They walk to the lake. Daryl jumps in the chilly waters, naked, cleaning himself from the blood and mess effectively in minutes. Later, they lean against one of the big rocks and watch the forest. Under the almost full moon, away from the trees, it's incredibly bright.

“You didn't fight with Merle, right?” Daryl asks, gesturing Dean's bloody knuckles. The guy has psychic powers when it comes to his brother. “He wouldn't leave you without a shiner at least.”

Dean can't say nothing happened with Merle now that Daryl directly asked. Because he knows Merle, the dude’s gonna complain about today for at least a week.

“The new guy handcuffed Merle when things got hairy. So, no. These are for beating Ed.”

“Sophia's dad?” Daryl prompts, lighting a cigarette.

“Yeah.” Dean doesn't know what to say. In one hand, he doesn't want to talk about how his brother played him. On the other, it's so new and bitter inside him that he's afraid he's not gonna be able to keep it.

“You didn't kill him, did you?”

Dean chuckles; it would be too easy to kill that bastard. “Nah.”

“You gonna tell me why?” Daryl pushes. This is the longest Daryl pursues a conversation. Dean's damn luck.

“Sam saw him touching Sophia.” He wants to stop there. It's a good enough explanation. But the rest spills unbidden from his mouth. “Lil’shit told it so I thought Ed was touching  **him** . Gone ballistic.”

Daryl stays silent for a while. Why the hell did he say anything? You don't go tell on your brother to others.

“He did it to help a lil’ girl.” Daryl speaks finally. “Probably thought it’s the only way. Give the kid some slack.”

Dean wants to howl. Wants to scream how betrayed he feels. Especially on this shitty day when he could still feel Merle's meaty hands on his hips and the guy's bitter words are still cutting him. He wants to cry.

“What did my brother do?” Daryl asks, not looking at Dean. See, psychic.

“He wanted to get his due from the carpet munching faggot that his brother keeps tapping.” The words keep flowing out. Dean can't stop.

“Good Lord!”

“He was high and beatingT-Bone bloody. I jumped in, things got ugly.” Dean adds hurriedly. That's what he was planning to say. He doesn't know why tonight he can't keep his fucking mouth shut. He doesn't know why Merle’s words still hurt so deep. Dean knows pain okay? He's been shot at the leg, had several broken bones, got beaten by ghosts that left him black and blue… This pain is different, but it still hurts the same.

Daryl nods. Flipping off the rest of his cigarette he turns to Dean. Daryl's gaze heavy on him and Dean doesn't know what to expect. Definitely not Daryl holding his chin and directly facing him.

“You okay?” He asks.

Dean wants to nod. Wants to joke about it with a smirk. But all he can manage is a shrug; like a fucking petulant child for Christ's sake.

Daryl shoulder bumps him which is the equivalent of a hug and half for the guy. “Don't listen to Merle when he's hopped up, okay?”

Dean nods. He knows that already. Ramblings of a druggie.. shouldn't hurt, not at all.

“And if you don't mind me sayin’, your brotha’...” Daryl speaks softly, “That kid worships the ground you walk on. He probably wanted to show off to Sophia or somethin’. We all did stupid shit tryin’ to impress some skirt one time or ‘nother.”

They walk toward the campground in silence.  The silence with Daryl is never suffocating or even boring. It's more like a comfortable quilt covering everything softly -like the one Uncle Bobby has in the living room and doesn't let anyone use it except Sam and Dean.  When it's time for Dean to turn towards his tent, Daryl stops him.”Wanna come with?”

“Now? You wanna…” Dean's so not expecting the offer, he stumbles over his words.

“Too tired now. Just sleep.”

This offer is even more unexpected, but as sweet. “Just sleep?” Dean tries to get a grip. All he gets is a grunt.

Dean shrugges. It'd be his first night spent with someone other than family. When they're moving toward Dixons’ area, Daryl murmurs, “Though I might wanna polish the mornin’ wood if you're down.”

Dean laughs.

* * *

Dean wakes up to a complaining Merle; his voice coming right outside of the tent.

“I spent the night out, man. Come on.”

There is some answer from Daryl but it's totally inaudible. Dean was surprised when they arrived to an empty tent, but Daryl explained how Merle keeps throwing up while getting down from his high and how it's almost impossible to clean that shit from the tent. So, the asshole was in exile.

“Do you have the lil’ fairy there?” Merle tries to past Daryl. “What, you're his girlfriend now?”

Dean tries his best, but Daryl is hard to hear when he's right next to you at the best of times. He can only hear a murmur.

“I don't wanna hang out there.” Merle’s voice raising again. “They handcuffed and left me to die only yesterday.”

Here we go. For all his thunder, the guy is a giant baby. The murmur keeps going for a while, making Dean antsy.

“Lemme thank your lil’ fairy wifey properly for savin’ my life then.” Finally Merle's voice is loud enough to reach Dean. He can feel that shit eating grin all the way inside the tent. “Come on, lil’ brotha’. I'm not asking to fuck’m. You can have his bung’ole all you want, just let him suck me a lil’, huh?”

A deep, cold panic freezes Dean all of a sudden. He does not want Merle to touch him. He definitely does not want the Dixon brothers to tag team him like… like he was a whore. He doesn't understand where this suffocating fear coming from. It's not like he hasn't kneeled in front of dirty, old men and let them fuck his face for a twenty. Let them call him even worse things while sucking their filthy dicks. He even learned how to pretend he liked it. ‘ _ Come on daddy. Give it to me, please. Please.’  _ just for a few extra bucks.

He can tell Daryl is answering Merle, but can't hear the words. Not sure if it's due to the usual Daryl drawl or because of the blood rushing in his ears.

Daryl enters the tent, his face tells nothing. Dean can't steer his eyes from the entrance. He can't take it anymore.

“Merle's coming?” He asks, he has to know. He has to leave before that brute gets inside.

“Nah.” Daryl answers.

It's not enough to calm Dean. He can't help but steal glances to make sure the door flap isn't opening.

“If you wanna fuck him-” Daryl starts, but Dean doesn't let him finish.

“I don't. I really, really don't.” The panic starts ebbing away, ”Please, Daryl. I don't want him to touch me.”

He simply nods in that very Daryl manner and sits down next to Dean.

“Want  **me** to touch you?” He asks, timid. Just like in the beginning. And that unknown fear dissolves completely, finally leaving the control of Dean's higher functions free.

“I ain't that good of an actor, man.” Dean answers, managing a sly smile. “You could've told after all this time.”

“Merle is lot of things, but he ain't no rapist.” Daryl claims after a spell, “You don't have to be afraid of him.”

Dean's not so sure. The guy was patting him pretty enthusiastically yesterday. Not that he thinks it's wise to share this bit of info with the guy's brother.

“Hey, lay down. Lemme take care of those knots you complained all night.” He offers Daryl instead while patting the sleeping pad.

“I didn't… yeah, okay.” Daryl agrees reluctantly. “Is that-”

“Yeah, baby oil. Apparently K&Y section is among the first to get ransacked when the world’s ending.” Dean smirks before making himself comfortable on the guy's buttocks. He reposition his very excited dick not to scare Daryl.

“You know whacha doin’?” Daryl asks while placing his head on his arms. His shoulders spread open, looking like an eagle from Dean's vantage point.

“Used to do it for my dad after a hard hunt.” Dean answers honestly.

It's easier to do it for Daryl. First of all, he couldn't sit on his father, obviously, so he had to do some sort of contortion to reach his back on the tiny motel room beds. Now, Daryl looks like an open book under him. Also, his hands are itching to touch the guy.

The baby oil smells okay, nothing flowery, thank God. It helps gliding Dean's hand over the taut body. He can feel the strength underneath the golden skin. His hard on is getting annoyingly persistent, but he marches on. Finding all that little kinks all over Daryl's back, opening them up and listening to Daryl honest to God moan.

“Jesus, you do know ya’ shit.” Daryl vocalizes his appreciation.

“Glad to be in service.” Dean tries responding but his voice is almost gone. This massage doing more for him than Daryl apparently.

“You tired?” Daryl asks because he's receptive like that, “I'm good, you can stop.”

“It's not…” Dean has to reorganize his thoughts, then decides to go all in, “Fuck! Daryl, can I rub on you one man. I'm… I'm… Shit! Dying here.”

Daryl chortles. “You have no control over ya’ dick, do you?”

“You have no idea how you look, man.” Dean tries to get his point across. “Don't wanna sound corny but…” he slides his hands over slick muscles one more time, “you look gorgeous.”

“Shut up” Daryl drawls. “Go ahead, knock yourself out.” He finally gives permission, “Just… don't, you know, no sticky stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.”

What Dean really wants to do is to drive his dick into the two delicious globes and rub between their fullness until he paints Daryl's stunning back with his jizz, but he knows that would be an overkill for Daryl. So he rubs it over the clothes. Still, he can feel that ass and fuck that's just too good. He comes way too quickly, barely catching his jeez before it touches Daryl.

“Hair trigger.” Daryl teases him. “Now, get down. I'm too relaxed not to sleep and ain't gonna do it with you over me.”

Dean can't really respond. He is too relaxed too. He slides next to Daryl and basks in the lightness.


	5. Rick

Rick opens his eyes up and there she is. Like a dream. No, better than a dream because now, Rick can enjoy the warm scent of her... fresh, woman, Lori. Carl is still asleep too. He watches them both, filling his eyes with the scene that he has missed something terrible. Finding them wasn't like how he had envisioned it would be. He had thought he'd be filled with relief the moment he saw them alive. The relief was there, of course it was, but it wasn't that sudden explosion he had expected. It was gradual, and it still is filling Rick with so much more than he thought was possible. Every moment they share is another one he thought he'd never get to have. Yeah, he said again and again that he believed they were alive. But when he was out there, seeing all those dead, mutilated bodies, families... It's impossible not to have doubts. Heavy, ugly, petrifying doubts that still find their way to his nightmares.

He wants to watch them until they wake up, but he knows Lori would sense it and he doesn't want to cut her sleep short. When he steps outside, Shane is sitting in the middle, cleaning the guns Rick brought from the precinct. He looks different. Rick can't tell exactly what it is, but looking at Shane, he can't really see his life long friend. Someone colder maybe, but definitely stronger. And Rick is grateful. Because he owes his family's life to his friend and he bets the new Shane is the one who's responsible.

He recognizes the guilt in Shane’s eyes and he gets it. It is something when you leave your partner behind thinking him dead or dying, and something entirely different learning that he's back, alive. Rick tried to tell Shane that he did the best by Rick. If Rick could've talk in his coma, he would have begged Shane to leave him in that hospital, to go and do whatever necessary in order to save Lori and Carl. What Shane did was actually a favor. But Shane doesn't hear him, his guilt weighing too heavy to do so.

He sits next to his friend and takes a pistol from the bag; starts cleaning. Much like in the old days.

“You need a hand?” It's the kid that pulverized the asshole the other night. Dean. The one who saved Merle even after everything the guy said and did.

“You know what you're doing?” Rick asks because the kid does not look like he ever needed to shave.

“This is Glock 17,” Dean starts with a gleam in his eyes, “here is Bruni Olympic, this is Remington 700 and you have Mosberg-”

“Okay, got it.” He stops the kid. “Knock yourself out.”

Dean grins and complies.

“How did you learn how to fight?” Rick asks. He's genuinely curious. Dean's just a kid, but he's entirely composed when shit hits the fan. Something not even seasoned officers can pull. Rick was sure the kid was dead when T-Dog said Dean went after Merle. The building was overrun by the dead, there was no way. He turned the truck back because there was that damn bag of guns he didn't want to leave behind and he took his time only because he felt guilty cuffing the guy to the roof. Then above all odds, there they were. Soaked in blood and guts of dead, but alive nonetheless.

“Hunting is a kind of family tradition.” Dean answers.

“Beating men twice your size, too?” Shane intervenes.

“Among other things.” Dean replies, then continues, “Not like beating Ed required a training.”

“He could've draw on you, kid. It was dangerous.” Rick gives his two cents.

“Yeah?” Dean raises his voice, angry, “What would you've done, officer, if you learned he was pawing Carl instead?”

Rick can't even contemplate. Here they are, hiding from the dead to survive, but the alive among them harming their kids.

“I'd break his hands.” Shane answers before Rick.

“Yeah, yeah…” Rick agrees, that would be the least he'd do. It scares him to think what he'd do.

Dean nods, then looks at them, “Are we still considering to leave for CDC?”

“It seems our best shot.” Rick answers. They have discussed for several hours yesterday. “Why?”

“Is Ed coming?”

Rick catches Shane's eyes. A good question.

“He has a family and they wouldn't leave without him.” Rick explains. “It would be murder. They can't survive a day.” It pains him to know very well that he wouldn't be this compassionate if it was Carl Ed was abusing.

“Fair enough.” Dean accepts, probably plotting how to kill the guy. Rick doesn't blame him.

“Dixons aren't coming though.” Shane declares.

“Excuse me?” Dean puts the gun he's cleaning down. A good habit, not holding a firearm when things get heated. “You're okay to bring a no good wife beater pedo, but not the guys who's been feeding you all this time?”

Rick wasn't aware of the decision, but he can't blame Shane for crossing out the guys after the shit Merle pulled the other day.

“Look kid.” Shane starts and Rick can see the effect of the patronizing voice on Dean. Shit. This isn't gonna end well. “You don't have to endure this abuse.”

“Ain't nobody abusing me!” Dean exclaims, strung tight like a coil.

“You don't have to sleep with that hillbilly for protection.” Shane continues.

Dean laughs, “You know why I sleep with Daryl, officer Walsh?” His eyes are shining with fury. “When he draws his crossbow and his muscles bulge.. I wanna fuck him sideways to Sunday. That's why. I wanna take his dick in my mouth and choke on it; I wanna feel his cock-”

“OK, Jesus, we got the picture.” Rick stops him, but he can’t help grinning at the enthusiasm in the boy. Epitome of youth. It's good to see some things do not change even when the world is ending. Boys are still boys.

“So what, we're gonna let this go?” Shane is incredulous, probably due more to Rick's grin than Dean's answer. “If it was before, we would find something to stop that asshole; coercion, statutory rape, something...”

“Nah, you wouldn't. I know the type.” says Dean, eying Shane with nothing but disgust. “You’d be the one to score a free bj to look the other way.”

Shane laughs, not a good one. “I'm not one of your Johns, you little-” he starts but Rick holds his arm to stop him.

“Just because you lost…” Dean pauses, eyes skipping over Rick for a fraction of a second, “...lost the ladies fawning over your uniform, you don’t have to take it out of the ones who can still get some.”

Rick appreciates the sentiment, Dean is trying to protect his feelings. But it is ridiculous that people think he wouldn't realize the tension between his wife and his best friend. He didn't at the first day only because finding his family turned him blind to anything else. It was obvious as sun in the second day. It came as a shock and God he wanted to beat the shit out of Shane, but he understands. They both thought he was dead, the world went shit around them, they had to keep each other close… It's just.. he expected a bit longer grieving period, that's all.

Shane seems like he's at the end of his patience, so Rick tries defusing the situation. “Okay, guys… let’s not fight with each other.”

Dean shrugs, then continues, “We ain’t coming if Dixons are out. And you know better than to leave three fighting men behind during the journey. Actually, considering the rest of the group I'd say 4 ‘cause Sammy is better than most of you.”

He's right. Other than Shane and Rick, rest of the group are not very good shots. He doesn't know about the little boy, but Dean, Merle and Daryl are great assets. He doesn't like it either. He wouldn't be too upset if Merle died on that rooftop, such a douche... but survival gets precedence.

“You're right.” Rick finally answers when Shane keeps his mouth shut. “We'll go together.”

Dean looks at the guns with longing, but still leaves after that discussion. Shane is breathing fire on his side.

“He ain't that young, man.” Rick tries to lift his friend’s mood. “If he wants to, you know, let him. God knows there isn't much left to enjoy in life.”

Shane shrugs.”Yeah. There is not.”


	6. Interlude: Daryl and Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't in the plans, but both Dean and Daryl wanted more fun times. So, some shower sex, folks. That's all.

The room is dark, lit only by a single bedside lamp which Sam is reading underneath. They've been in the building less than an hour and the kid already found a fucking encyclopedia to bury himself in. Talk about a bookworm.

Daryl enters the room quietly, but as he expected Sam is totally on him. The kid gives him a nasty look like he always does. Daryl gets it; he's banging the kid’s brother. When he was growing up if someone drived it up to Merle's ass, Daryl would’ve hate their guts too. Now he knows better, but he's not gonna waste breath trying to explain it to the kid.

“What?” Sam asks, his usual politeness that makes the ladies giggle is nowhere to be found.

“You mind leaving the room?” Daryl asks.

“Why?” Now he's openly sulking.

“I wanna talk to your brotha’.” He tries to be patient.  But Sam doesn't move, his head is tilted up, eying Daryl as if they have blood feud between them. “Come on, Sammy. We’re gonna fuck. You wanna stay and listen?”

“Don't call me Sammy.” The kid grumbles.

“Whateva’.” Daryl starts taking his boots off.

“Maybe Dean doesn't want it.” Sam pushes his luck.

“You met Dean?” Daryl scoffes, “He always does.”

“You think you're God's gift to him, but you're not. You're just available. Soon as he finds someone better-” Sam starts, but Daryl has had enough.

“Don't be a lil’ bitch, kid. You'll get some soon enough, no need to be jealous. Now, go on. Carl and Sophia are at the rec room. Join them.” He says his piece and moves to the bathroom. He isn't gonna wait for the kid to drive himself even madder.

He can see Dean's silueth through the fogged glass. The boy realizes that he's not alone while Daryl shakes of his clothes.

“I let you have the first shower, Sammy, just so I can stay as long as I want.”

“Care if I join?” Daryl asks, opening up the door.

“Daryl!” Dean genuinely squeaks. With his head is covered in bubbles, he looks adorable.

“That a yes?” Daryl asks, noticing Dean's dick is already up, covered in bubbles too. He can't blame the boy for having a good time in the hot shower when that's exactly what he was doing moments ago… before deciding to make it an even better time and come here.

Dean cleans his face. His grin is wide and contagious.

“Hell yeah.” He answers. “Just surprised to see you here, that's all.”

Daryl grabs his neck and pulls the boy. “Come're.”

He never thought he would want to kiss a dude, but he's way over that by now. They're in the fucking CDC, safe and sound against all odds. There is hot water with perfect pressure and all Daryl wants to do is to finally taste those lips.

 

* * *

 

Dean is aware that he's looking at the guy with wide open eyes, like an idiot. He wasn't expecting Daryl to come into his room, let alone into the shower. And he really wasn't expecting Daryl to kiss him. On the mouth. Dean has been having hot dreams about kissing the guy, okay? He's not ashamed to admit it. And the real deal is much better than all the fantasies.

Dean thought Daryl would kiss like he's fighting. He was expecting a fierce, biting, breathless kiss that would leave his lips bruised. What he gets instead is soft and chaste. Like chocolate mousse that melts in mouth, delicious in a way that leaves Dean hungry for more when it ends. And when it ends, Dean is breathless for totally different reasons. His lips are tingling now, not at all bruised like he expected.

Daryl’s hand is still massaging his neck and the guy is looking at Dean with a genuine smile which is so rare that Dean thought extinct.

“What?” Dean suddenly feels self conscious of his skinny body under the unforgiving fluorescent lights.

“We made it.” Daryl answers.

Yeah, they did.

Dean kisses him again because he can and he wants to. Daryl lets him in, then sucks in his tongue which makes Dean's dick jump like an electroshocked frog leg. He tries to control it, keep it away from Daryl but it's almost impossible the way they squeezed in the small shower. Daryl puts an end to it by pulling Dean by hips, flushing their bodies together and grinding their dicks to each other.

Dean's dick has never touched a naked Daryl before, so understandably it is very, very enthusiastic. Even more so when Daryl moves his lips to Dean's neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin below his ears.

“Oh, Christ!” He yells, when Daryl's fingers find his hole. He was “ _cleaning up”_ with lots of soap before Daryl barged in, so there is still some slick present allowing a finger slipping inside.

“You'll tell me if hurts, right?” Daryl whispers and continues fingering him.

Dean has never been fingered open by anyone other than himself before. With Daryl, Dean always went to him all prepared and ready to be fucked. When he was turning tricks, he had to be prepared beforehand because none of his johns paid for prepping the whore. The finger in him feels understandably different than his own; goes deeper too. It's a combined assault, the way Daryl munching his neck and the way his finger massaging his ass.

“I think I'm ready. Yeah, ready please.” He begs. “Daryl, please.”

His legs can barely carry him by the time Daryl lets him go. Daryl pours the baby oil he brought with him onto his dick, rubbing it gently. Dean turns back only to be stopped.

“Face me.” Daryl orders, then lifts Dean up holding his hips and pushes his back to the shower wall. “Hold on to the door.” Which is easier said than done, but Dean manages.

His arms get tested in that very weird pull up position when Daryl takes off one hand to direct his dick. But he forgets about the stretch when he slides down on Daryl, his weight helping him impaled on the guy's cock. Daryl’s mouth find his neck again. He fucks Dean slowly, grinding his hips every time he bottoms in, gloriously rubbing Dean's dick with his abs.

“I don't think I can hold on too long.” Dean confesses.

“Yeah, you will.” Daryl whispers right onto his neck. His hands holding Dean tight, lifting him up and down, exactly in tune with his hips.

Dean's arms are getting tired already but that wasn't what he was hinting at. He was already halfway there when Daryl joined him. Now, with the double assault on his ass and dick, he isn't gonna last long.

“Daryl, I'm gonna cum soon.” Dean gasps between thrusts.

“Go on, then. We're in the shower for a reason.”

And then he does something totally out of character that blows Dean's mind. He grabs Dean's dick and starts jacking him off.

“Hold tight.” Daryl warns when Dean forgets how to use his hands for a moment. Don't get Dean wrong, he loves fucking Daryl; he has just missed a hand on his dick other than his own.

It's torture, expecting him to have this much control over his appendages when he's on the verge of flying. He's gonna pull a muscle or get a cramp in this position. Still, he doesn't let go.

Daryl fucks him with shallow thrusts now; pulverizing Dean between his pelvis and the wall. Since Dean can't hold himself as firmly anymore, he's completely impaled on the guy's dick, deeper than he's ever been.

When he comes, he keeps coming. Daryl works him through it, not caring about the jizz, thank God. Dean can't keep his arms up anymore; so he wraps them around Daryl's neck instead and selfishly basks in the aftershocks.

 

* * *

 

Daryl believes that you have to work hard for the things in life that worth enjoying. Maybe except getting shit faced drunk, for that pleasure you have to pay afterwards. He loves hunting for example; running after a buck sometimes for miles, waiting under rain or sun for hours at a time to catch a break… Yes, all that hard work makes the meat taste extra delicious if you ask him. Much better than anything he can get from a supermarket. But that's not all. He enjoys working toward the goal almost as much, every fucking tiring minute of it. It is the same with fucking; the more he works for it, the higher he reaches when he finally blasts. And the working part is even more satisfying than the hunting. He knows Dean is still too young to appreciate the pleasure a little patience can add to the mix, but it seems the boy enjoyed that little exercise Daryl put him through just fine.

Dean comes like he always does, moaning, begging and clenching on Daryl. Only, this position forces him so much deeper on Daryl's dick that Daryl can feel the boy's tremors all the way in his gut. And when it's all done, the kid collapses like a broken doll; all his weight on Daryl.

Daryl was afraid touching another dude's junk or jizz might make him squeamish. It didn't. Maybe because he was already too close to come himself that he couldn't care less. Probably.

“You're heavier than you look.” He wheezes, balancing the boy on the wall. Dean’s response is totally inaudible murmur. He looks so fucked out, so deliciously debauched that Daryl has to return fucking him right this minute. “Fucking kiss me, huh. Can you?” He almost begs.

Dean raises his pretty head and complies. And Daryl uses last of his energy reserves to fuck the kid. Dean's weight puts extra strain on his legs, making them ache and tremble under the load. His lungs burn too; he seemingly can't have enough air to get through this extortion. But he can feel his orgasm coming all the way from his core. Like an avalanche, getting bigger and more powerful every second. When he comes, it's everything he expected and more. He's wheezing through Dean's mouth, drinking the boy’s gasps, holding him so tight that he will definitely be able to count his fingers on the kid's ass tomorrow.

When he's finally done, they slide down on the shower floor. Dean is still impaled on him.

“Fuck!” Dean says, grinning like a lunatic.

“Yeah. That.” is the most sophisticated response Daryl can come up with. He's done. Done.

“When was the dinner?” Dean asks after a spell because regardless of how tired the boy is, he's still an always hungry teenager with a very short refractory period. Next time, Daryl is gonna make him do all the heavy lifting. He just needs to catch his breath first before letting the kid on the plan.


	7. Dr. Jenner

When Edwin opened the door, they looked not very different than the dead outside. It wasn't too hard to think of them as already dead. But now, after they cleaned up, feasting, laughing, celebrating… They are so full of life and hope that Edwin doesn't know how to break the news. There is no cure. There is no help. There is no hope.

Shane asks him the question. It's not easy, but has to be done. They all look broken afterwards. And although Edwin isn't directly responsible of what's happening, he still feels guilty because he's the reason that nobody is smiling anymore.

“There must be something.” Grimes says, as a father he doesn't have the luxury of accepting the truth. He has to have hope for his kid’s sake.

“I'm still sending my reports, uploading them through the satellite. But there is no answer from anyone. And frankly, my reports don't have anything groundbreaking in them. I'm not even close understanding the thing, let alone finding a cure. After all this time, I don't even know where to start.” Edwin explains.

The group gets ansty. The tall, biker looking guy starts a long charade of swear words that Edwin would be happy if he died not knowing some of them.

“I'm immune.” A kid's voice raises above the angry murmur of the group. “You can start there.” It's the wild looking boy who's always standing right next to his older brother.

It seems the declaration is news to the majority of the group too. They don't believe it either. There is no such thing as being immune. Edwin checked their blood, they're all infected just like the rest of the population sampled before everything went total haywire.

“Yeah, he is. I've seen with my two eyes.” The biker dude confirms. “Was gonna kill the kid to spare’m, but lucky sonofa bitch didn't die.”

That's impossible.

“You didn't see anything in the blood work?” Grimes asks after everyone checked the bite marks, plural, on the kid.

He didn't. He wasn't even looking. Maybe that's why there is no hope; he lost hope when he lost her. Maybe he can't see what's right in front of him.

“Not in the markers I was testing for.” Edwin finally answers.

“Can't you use it? Find a cure?” Rick’s wife asks.

He wants to say no, but even though he doesn't have hope, he has responsibilities… and he promised.

“I'll try.”

“There is a but.” Shane senses that there is something else majorly wrong.

Then Edwin tells them everything. That there isn't enough power to sustain the facility. That the self destruct sequence will start in a day or so. As he expected, the news aren't well received. The group falls into chaos; everybody is yelling.

After a while Rick manages to calm his people. They start planning: where to get some fuel, how to keep the place running… until Edwin finds the cure. They believe he will. He wishes it was enough, but knows better. He's been working on the damn thing from the start and he knows. He is not capable. He's just not enough. He wants to tell these people. They should go and look for someone else for the salvation, but he doesn't have a clue if there is anybody else left. So he stays quiet.

“We check the generators now.” Rick speaks with conviction. “Tomorrow, three groups to three different direction, focusing only on the fuel.”

They plan and plan. That's what people with hope do. Edwin should too; focus on his responsibilities. However, he can't bring himself to act. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe if they manage to keep the facility alive, then maybe, maybe he can start too. Maybe.

Rick pulls him to the side when everyone is leaving to their quarters. “Can you check his blood again? Maybe others, the other kids have it too.”

“Or he has an autoimmune problem that somehow protects him. It could be anything, Rick.”

“Just… Can't you give it a try?” He's pleading.

“Yeah. Of course. Morning first thing.” He promises if only to free himself.

 

* * *

 

The breakfast is a feat. The ladies of the group manage to create a festive brunch. There are kids running around the table, laughing and carefree like children usually are. After everything, they still look so hopeful that it hurts Edwin to look at them.

Edwin wishes he was a better scientist. He wishes he was one of those geniuses that can see the patterns out of nothing. He truly does, but he also knows that it's not the case. He probably wouldn't even be in CDC if it wasn't for that one paper they published with Cadence which was actually all her. Yes, Edwin did the measurements and took the pictures, but the idea, implementation was all his wife. He doesn't even deserve being here, let alone being the only one left representing the institute.

They are going over the maps when they hear it.

“Was that an explosion?” Shane jumps up.

“Sounded like it.” The tall redneck replies.

In a blur, women and children -and Edwin too- are pushed behind the shelves. The guns are all directed to the door. Their fear is palpable, strangely Edwin doesn't feel it. It's possible he can't feel anything anymore.

Everybody stays dead silent until they start hearing some footsteps.

“Daryl!” Rick whisper yells for the shorter redneck, “How many do you think?”

“At least five. Probably more. They sound organized.” the guy replies, his crossbow trained on the door.

“Doctor Jenner!” They all hear his name being called from outside and some faint 'clear’s.

Edwin gets up to answer, he can tell Rick doesn't like it. “Who's there?” is as good answer as any, he decides; he's playing house now.

The steps converge on the dining hall’s door.

“We're coming in, please do not shoot.” Someone yells before the door creaks open and a soldier with funny hair steps in.

“Howdy folks.” He starts after taking in all the guns and one crossbow directed at him. “I assure you, there is no need for violence.”

He introduces himself; lieutenant colonel, USAF. That makes their mismatch band of gunslingers relax. It has the opposite effect in Edwin.

“Why are you here?” He asks, though he knows. He knows.

“Can we drop the guns and let my team in first, please?” the colonel asks. There is an easy grin on his face, looking totally friendly in a way soldiers usually don't.

It's not like the small group Edwin hosting has any chance against trained soldiers but they still look up to Rick before dropping their guns. Suddenly the room is filled with bunch of brutes looking a lot less friendlier than thelr colonel.

“Let's talk.” The colonel gestures the dinner table, still full with food. He sits down before anyone else and even helps himself a taste, complementing the cooking. When everyone sits down, he starts. “We received the latest data update from this facility yesterday night. The scientists say they saw something interesting.” How the hell they got the info from the data Edwin collected. He didn't see anything different in the bloodwork. The guy continues, “Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?”

“One of the kids, he's apparently immune to the bite.” Edwin answers.

All the soldiers suddenly relax. Some are even smiling now.

“Yeah, yeah… That's what we were told, but not in certain terms. I'm glad that's the case.” The colonel confirms then looks at the group, taking in their confused faces. “Maybe I should have started differently.”

He then explains how he's from a facility that's -still- working on the epidemic. How the blood work sent yesterday is the biggest news they received so far and how hopeful their scientists are to find a cure using it. How they flew all night to come here in order to secure their only hope.

“You couldn't just pick up the phone or send a message?” Edwin can't help the contempt in his voice. He was uploading every single night since he was left alone. There never was an answer. Not even a confirmation of receiving the data. He believed no one left listening. He believed he was the last person alive.

“I'm told there's a problem with your firewall, Dr Jenner. We receive the data you send but cannot establish a two-way contact.” The colonel states with a shrug. Edwin thinks they're blaming him for not using any other means of communication than the network. Rightly so. The soldiers protecting CDC left plethora of equipment. Edwin didn't try any of them. He just… He really thought there was no one else left on the world. “We're here to repeat the blood test and take the immune persons back with us.” The colonel finishes.

“Only the immune?” Rick asks as the group's leader.

The colonel grimaces, “I know it sounds cruel, but we cannot afford carrying too many people. We have to carry our own gas to fuel in-flight to avoid landing during the journey. I don't know if anyone is familiar with the concept but it isn't simple, and turns my PAVE Hawk to a tight little cruiser. We cannot afford risking this mission. I hope you all understand that.” He looks at them with compassion and continues. “But let's do the blood work first.”

One of the uniformed comes forward. He doesn't look like a soldier Edwin realizes. He looks like one of those geniuses that can solve world problems while having morning coffee.

“Okay, I'm gonna collect a wee bit blood from each of you.” The guy speaks with an accent that makes him sound like friendliest dude in the block.

Everyone lines up. Edwin can see the hope in the parents eyes. What if it's in their kid too. It doesn't take too long to crush that hope. It's only one person; only Sam who's tightly holding his brother's hand.

The colonel talks to his doctor and to the brute who is probably his second in command.

“Good news is that we confirmed the previous finding.” He says, smiling. He reads the name from the paper the doctor filled previously, “Sam Winchester, you're the humanity's only hope, kid. You've a brother I see, Dean.” The big brother nods, hugging Sam to his side. “Any guardian?”

Dean catches the arm of the guy with the crossbow, Daryl, to pull him close.

“Okay, then.” The colonel gestures some military signs to his men. They all start getting ready. “Here is the directions to the compound.” He continues, “If you make it there, we have facilities for civilians. You'll be safe.”

Rick takes the map; but immediately objects, “It's in Colorado. How are we gonna make it there?”

The others too starts talking, some asking about Fort Benning, some about government.

“Fort Benning isn't safe anymore.” The colonel explains, he looks haunted at the mention of the place. “The closest safe place that we can vet is in Colorado. We’ll blow up some buildings in the opposite direction to attract the dead. That'll give you a clean start.”

“Can't you take the kids at least?” Rick openly beggs, “Just the kids, please.”

Aforementioned kids starts crying, clinging to their mothers.

The colonel talks to one of the guys, then shakes his head. “I'm sorry folks. We simply don't have the space. And I can't leave any of the men behind. In case of an emergency landing, we need to be strong to finish the mission.”

That's when the ' _ guardian _ ’ pulls his hand back from Dean, “Two kids’re lighter than I am.” He announces, “These two don't need no guardian.”

It's a cacophony of shouts for a while. The older redneck yells at Daryl, asking how stupid his ass can be. The kids are crying, their moms too.

Rick asks the colonel, “Can you?” He continues when the guy nods, “Will they be safe?”

“It's safest place on the planet.” The colonel replies. 

“I'll take care of them both.” Dean reassures Rick. And somehow not the strapping soldiers, but that teenage boy's assurance make the mothers nod.  “Come on kids! Your parents are gonna join us very soon.”

It's heartbreaking watching the boy and the girl being separated from their families. Edwin knows parental separation is scarier than death for kids. He's never this grateful for not having any himself.

Dean on the other hand reaches for his so called guardian talking about a place in Sioux Falls for an alternate meeting place, “If anything goes wrong, we'll go there. Please…. Please make it in one piece.”

* * *

 

It is finally quiet when soldiers leave with crying kids in their heavily armed helicopter.

“So, Colorado…” Grimes says, an arm wrapped around crying wife’s shoulders.

“Colorado.” Answers Daryl. “We'll find the kids.”

Looking at the nodding people, Edwin feels something. Maybe hope. He'll decide on it when they arrive Colorado.

  
The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think the lit. colonel is familiar, you're right. I couldn't trust anyone else for this search and rescue mission other than the pointy eared pilot. ;) If you didn't, no worries. Just know that he'll bring the kids to safety.


End file.
